


AT THE VERGES OF THE DANUBE

by mimuranda



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Christmas, Happy Ending, POV Crowley (Good Omens), crowley and aziraphale dancing, dancing under the stars, fem Aziraphale, litlle angst, waltz
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-30
Updated: 2020-12-30
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:55:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28428891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mimuranda/pseuds/mimuranda
Summary: This ficlet is part of the Antichristmas Zine, for which I wrote two others. The exclusivity period ended on 24th December, so I am uploading all them.During that christmas in Viena, Crowley, as the prussian embassador, has to attend the party at the palace. He hasn't seen the angel in too much time, and he feels so lonely he was wondering if he should show at all. A present sent by Aziraphale will change his mind.
Relationships: cowleyxaziraphale
Comments: 2
Kudos: 13
Collections: AntiChrist-mas Zine Collection





	AT THE VERGES OF THE DANUBE

Crowley lacked self-confidence.

He lacked it so much, that he felt utterly obligated to show a jerk-off attitude. There was no way those stupid demonic co-workers would discover that they could smash him with a simple verbal attack, a misplaced joke, a too hard comment. It was Hell. Those kind of things were each day reality, and he was not letting them see how sensitive he was. 

So be it. Let’s appear like a flash - bastard, let’s move as if he held the world in his grip. Let’s be annoying, let’s look extremely reckless and arrogant. 

Truth to be spoken, his looks clearly told that story. 

Crowley finished brushing his red hair, a hair he was wearing quite-too-long for the era, but once again, he was an arrogant, defying brat. His clothes, on the other hand, were just wonderful and accurate to the occasion. Ineffable. The luxury of his gorgeous- there was no other way to call it- black silk suit with red and golden details was mesmerizing.

He smiled. It was a rich suit, that not everybody could afford. Warm, so he could go in the snowy weather of austrian december, but thick so he could move easily. And indeed he was going to move like never before that night. It was the finest piece of art and couture, and it had been a present, and he fancied it so much. 

Of course, he could have miracled it. But he wouldn’t have been the same. That was something someone had taught him. A shy smile crossed his face, thinking about that particular someone. He slightly inspired the aroma of the suit. The emballage in which the suit had been sent was still open over his table, the tull covering it in a cloud of beige and white softness that warmed his heart. He smelled his suit. He still had a trace of that scent. 

Heavenly. 

He was again stupidly smiling, when his wandering stare fell on it’s reflection. Golden, serpentine eyes stared back, and the charm was broken. He felt his chest constraiting, and quickly moved his head away, to the door. His eyes were one of those things that didn’t help with his fragile confidence. 

It reminded him constantly that he was a demon. Foul fiend, vil creature. Not worthy. Unforgivable. 

Was it not because that person that made his heart race as if he was a mere mortal had told him they were beautiful, Crowley would have ripped them out of his face. He had so long hated his gaze. Now a sadder sensation had overcome that hate. Almost 6000 years of self deprecation was tiring. Just as much as pinning.

Except that wasn’t going to change, no matter how much he wished, craved for it to do so.

He left the apartment. The cold wind of the beginning of winter embraced him. A little shiver ran through his spine. Damn, he hated winter. Still, his suit was keeping him warm enough, and once again, his heart warmed, and even had the audacity to skip a beat. 

He headed himself in direction to the central palace of the city. Despite the despicable weather, he liked Vienna. It was a magnificent city, as magnificent as the empire that had built those monuments to humanity’s best (and sometimes worst) memories. It reminded him of the person of his affection. How not? Arts, science, music and hedonistic pleasures displayed everywhere. 

Of course his angel would love it. 

Of course it would be a painly delightful reminder of Aziraphale. 

He hummed when he entered the hall. The Danau was close, giving the atmosphere a bit more humidity than where his appartement was. He took that moment to calm himself. One of the secondary effects of Aziraphale’s gift, apart from being wonderfully dressed, was the fact that he was easily mistaken with an austrian gentleman. 

It had earned him more than a grin from lovely mädchen as well as some greetings by the families he had seen in the streets. More than one “Fröhe Weihnachten '' followed by genuine smiles or “Guten Abend, mein Herr '' he would never have hoped in his prussian military attirance. 

Crowley didn’t mind, he was accustomed to being despised, but even if he wanted to deny it, he liked to be kindly addressed. Once again an effect of the angel holy touch he didn’t deserve.   
Sadly, in the palace everybody knew him. 

“Herr Anton von Crowleiheit'' was an eminent emissary from the Prussian Empire, feared, respected and hated. More hated now than ever, because of the humiliating defeat of the country. And there was no way he wasn’t going to be recognized.   
An almost imperceptible shiver ran down his spine, he shouldn’t feel so influenced by the opinion of a bunch of humans, but he was. And more than anything, he couldn’t help but wonder and fear what Aziraphale would think of him. Influenced by the gossips of the men and women of the austrian society. 

Aziraphale, who was the only real reason to attend that christmas party of 1866. 

Crowley should have known better.

Crowley should have thought that Aziraphale would never pay attention to whispered idiocies that would fade in time, that he knew his opponent and best friend better than anybody, that he had seen his heart and accepted him with all his faults and strengths.  
But as we have established, Crowley lacked self-confidence. 

************************************  
Crowley lacked self-confidence, at everything except at dancing. When dancing, he forgot all his worries and issues, letting himself feel the music rhythm, the instruments' voices, their soul filling the space around him. Dancing was liberating. 

It awakened something inside of him, a long ago lost memory of a time before everything when his dancing partners were the stars and he was still touched by divine grace. 

And if apart from music that made him feel alive, there was insane amounts of alcohol, Crowley loosened his grip around his own behaviour. 

He had been at the party for almost two hours and he still hadn’t seen Aziraphale. As expected, his entrance had been followed by a freezing welcome and uncomfortable smiles. Crowley had tried to stay as polite as possible, his better charming mischievous grin always dancing in his lips, his gestures playing with the mortals in front of him in order to cool them. He knew they were terribly sensitive to that, no matter how much his demonic presence bothered them. He was a tempter, after all. Seduce naive humans was his thing. 

After a brief moment, the ambience became slightly more welcoming, and in no time he was dancing with beautiful austrian ladies from nobility. He only made breaks to have some wine, and then a little more beer, bitte. 

At the beginning, he had tried to really enjoy the moment and have real interactions, but after the first hour, his mood began to darken. Where was Aziraphale? 

A hole grew in his chest, there was no way he wouldn’t assist, was it? He had sent him that suit, he was awaited by the nobility present in that room and the angel would never miss such a party, less talking that party. 

And still, he wasn’t there. The hole grew a bit more when Crowley realized he was only dancing with a very specific type of woman, with curvy shapes, light skin and hair, deep blue eyes. He stopped abruptly at the last song, mumbled a poor excuse to his cavalière and rushed to the balcony. 

He needed fresh air. His heart was hammering loudly in his chest. For heaven’s sake, why was he so obvious? How desperate was he? 

True he hadn’t seen the angel in almost a year, with the war and everything but they had been separated for more time than that. When had it become so unbearable to think he wouldn’t see him? 

He felt somehow betrayed, which was stupid and how pathetic. 

He was really fucked if the deception of not seeing Aziraphale when he had expected it had that kind of effect on him. For once, the wine was not to blame. 

He was highly considering leaving the party and coming back to his apartment, maybe even taking a nap and just stopping waiting when he heard it. 

“Oh my, here you are dear” the voice was gracious, soft and feminine, and so full of fondness, Crowley almost gasped. 

He would have recognized that voice in a thousand worlds. Aziraphale was there, finally. He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to buy some time, not to look too eager. 

No doubt it was Aziraphale, but by the tone, she was presenting as a female. Which was not supposed to be like that. She was supposed to be a male professor of a fair family from Innsbruck. No way he hadn't seen her, if he had been looking for a man.   
After a short moment, slowly, Crowley turned around. His mind was already forming the questions, “where have you been, Angel?” and “why the sudden change”, but his voice died in his throat. 

Aziraphale was breathtaking. It was a vision, the sun presenting in all its magnificence in front of him. Her dress was pure ivory around her dangerous curves, her hair had been untied and fell in blind locks around her swan-like neck. Crowley wanted to caress that golden treasure. Her cheeks were illuminated by the party lights, and was she blushing? Her eyes were shining in amusement. 

Oh the bastard! She knew the effect her surprise had on him, of course she knew. And the worst part was he couldn’t decide himself to get angry. 

“Sorry for being late, dearest. I had some ...business to attend. You look dashing tonight, Crowley. I am glad you decided to wear my present” she smiled, and her smile was an arrow to the demon's heart. 

Every racing question Crowley's mind was preparing faded at that. 

“You doubted I would wear it?” he asked disbelievingly. 

“Well” she blushed” you look always so fancy and I ...I am not that good at fashion”

Crowley melted. He breathed once, and taking all the courage he could manage to find, made a step in Aziraphale direction. 

“I love it” he said. I love you, he internally screamed, a secret that had the weight of blasphemous worshiping. “ I ...thought you wouldn’t come. “

“I have been negotiating, then give an excuse and sent Lehrer Erziraphael home. I changed shape ten minutes ago” she was going in his direction, her eyes on him like there was no other being in the world. ”I wanted some privacy” she whispered as she closed the last meters within them.”It has been.. a lot “ she finally whispered as a confidence, answering his untold question. She was definitely blushing. 

Crowley finally found the strength to smile. 

“You are a clever, clever angel “he said. He was whispering too, and he felt numb, incredibly hot despite the winter atmosphere and so happy. His brain had stopped working. 

Aziraphale tentatively touched the tissue on his arm then her eyes wandered along his face. They briefly stopped at his lips - he must have imagined that- and then she gave a quick squeeze. 

“I was worried about you” Crowley blinked. 

“Why?” 

“You were sent to war! You could have been discorporated “

“It’s only a body, Aziraphale”

Something passed on Aziraphale's beautiful features. Crowley instantaneously felt a bit guilty. 

“I am fine, Angel” he quickly reassured her. 

The angel smiled, and passed her arm in his. Heading at the nearest bench:

“Tell me everything” she pleaded “I want to know”

Of course, Crowley indulged.  
************************  
Crowley lacked self-confidence, and Aziraphale was his main reason for that lack. The angel was his whole world, and Crowley feared not to be enough. 

Paradoxically, when he was with her, he felt at home. 

They have been talking for so long, Crowley didn’t even remember at what moment they have left the balcony to wander along french gardens, slowly walking under the moon among roses and hortensias, the reassuring weight of Aziraphale arm on his, her warm next to him, her fragrance almost intoxicating. 

Not that he really cared. It was overwhelming, but so good. He would go to war until the end of time if it meant to have that kind of reward. 

Then, Aziraphale suddenly stopped. They had come back under the balcony. The music of the party reached them. 

“ Angel? “ he asked. She seemed to have remembered something. 

“Ah...uhm, Crowely, I wanted to ask you something “

Crowley blinked. 

“Anything, Angel ” he said. He regretted to sound so willing to accept, even if it was the case.”I...i was wondering if...if you w-would...dance with me?” she was looking at her shoes, as if the answer of the universe was written on them.   
Had Aziaphale decided to kill him that night? Probably. 

Before thinking about what he was doing, he bowed. 

“I thought you’ll never ask “ he whispered , taking her hand and bringing her knuckles to his lips. 

“Oh...oh! “ the angel answered.”Well, in that case…-

She snapped her fingers, and to Crowley amazement, a waltz he had never heard before came to life. Crowley raised a single brow, but didn’t ask. He just laced the most lovely waist in the world, and he led the way. 

They dance until dawn. It was more than Crowley would have dared dream until then, and at some point, it have been dreadfully hard to separate his body from Aziraphale, to bow once more, to give his best wishes for the end of the year, to leave with a “See you around, angel”. 

However, despite how hard it was, Crowley left the party with the smile. It was only months later, when Strauss presented his waltz to the world, when Crowley recognized the music that now was in his best dreams, that he learned the angel had asked the man to compose that music for him. 

To cheer him up. 

Crowley never lacked self-confidence again.


End file.
